Stranger Things Have Happened
by johny2K
Summary: Follow the lives and battles of Tank Dempsey, Nikolai Belenski, Takeo Masaki, and Edward Richtofen leading up to there unlikely team-up and fight against Samantha and the undead horde. First fic, but dont be afraid to comment, your not going to hurt anyones feelings.
1. Seeds of doubt

_Subject: Edward Richtofen_

_Location:__Siberia, Russia (forty-three miles east of Tiksi) 935 test facility "Eagles Nest"_

_Date: January 4__th __1940_

_Status: Richtofen and his associate, Schuster, have spent the last six previous months configuring and testing the DMT teleporter _

"_Aber das ist nicht __das entscheidende__Experiment Sie__sollten__zu__arbeiten_!", Maxis' voice was cold with no hint of understanding. "With all due respect, Doctor Maxis, this a break through of unimaginable proportions." Edward tried to explain to the man over six hundred miles away. Richtofen gripped the phone tight, trying to keep his compsure.

"What? that you moved a walnut a few feet", his voice dripping with sarcasm,"Yes Edward we will improve the human condition by revolutionazing the walnut industry. Yes I can see it now:'_Edwards walnut delivery.'_"

Richtofen tried to maintain his composure and talked as calm as he could into the phone.

"Dont be so obtuse", he replied bluntly.

"How dare you call me that!", The sarcasm in his voice disapeared only to be replaced by rage.

"We are at war Edward! I will admit that there is some promise here but until this war is won..."

"Correct me if I am wrong, Doctor Maxis, but group 935 is a research organization. What is our motto? To improve the human condition? What business is this war of ours?".

There was a pause and Edward leaned on his desk in anticipation of Maxis' response. The room was small, only containing his desk, the phone and a few cabinents. A dim light lay over head, dimly lighting his simple office. Papers were scattered across his desk and the small window to his left howled and shook, protesting to the icy sting of the russian winter.

Maxis exhaled deeply over the phone, making it audible and began."Fine doctor Richtofen I will let you in on a little adminastrative secret: We are finalizing a deal with the Nazi Party. We need funding, We need equipment, and they need new weapons. Chances are this war will end soon with a treaty or two and we will be in a much better position to help the world."

Richtofen was stunned for a moment and asked with deep concern,"Are you sure this wont cause massive defections? We have scientists all over the world working with us."

"That is why, with the upmost confidence I share this information with _you_. No one will know of this. This is simply the breaking of an egg to make a few omlets."

Maxis' voice was full of assurity and pride."Think of the tactical advantage we would have!" Edward tried to sell off his discovery again.

"Think of the cost, think of the time!", Ludwig retorted. "We can provide the Nazis tactical expertise in various areas without putting all our eggs in your '_walnut_' basket_." _ He finished sacrasticly. "Good day, Edward, and get back to your real work."

He abruptly hung up on Richtofen. Edward sighed, defeated. He placed the phone back up on his desk. "What an _Arschloch_z", Edward cursed. "I think Doctor Maxis has lost his perspective", he commented as he stood from his chair and turned around to speak with Doctor Schuster.

"No matter... we will do this on our own and publish the findings before he has a chance to..."."you're  
not suggesting that Dr. Maxis would steal this technology and perfect it without us are you?" Schuster cut in. He wore a long white lab coat, his leeves rolled up to the elbow. The 935 symbol, an arm gripping an orb with 935 on it surrounded by atomic swirls, was stitched on his left breast pocket. His blue eyes looked puzzeled behind thick lenses and his bald head almost gleamed under the dim lighting.

"I would by no means discourage that thought," Richtofen admitted. "Great scientists must stick together to achieve great science." He quoted as he stared thoughtfully out the frost covered window.


	2. Seeing double

_Subject:_ _Nikolai Belinski_

_Location: Twelve miles east of Moscow _

_Date: December 10__th__ 1941 (Battle of Moscow)_

_Status: Heavily engaged in an entrenched position defending the capitol along with the rest of _the 5th, 16th, 43rd and 49th armies_ /Drunk _

"Держите голову вниз товарищи! Ах дерьмо гранату!"

Were the only words Nikolai heard before the grenade went off next to sergeant Yazov. The blast threw Nikolai back some and he landed hard on his back into the snowy covered dirt. His ears rang, a noise he was actually quite accustom to. Still shell-shocked he looked around.

The makeshift trench walls stood high above his head. He looked to the sky seeing only the gray stillness of clouds as the snow settled softly on to his face.

The thick white layer upon layer of clothing had protected him from any small shards of shrapnel that the German grenade had spat out. He stared at where Sergeant Yazov was… or more fitting where he _had_ been standing. The ground where the sergeant was had a small black crater begging to fill with snow.

He crawled to the side of the trench where the grenade had come and picked up his PPSH-41 submachine gun and cradled it with one arm. He leaned against the snowy wall of the freshly dug trench and took out his Silver flask of vodka. He took a long shameless swig and tucked it back in his jacket. Since there was no one person on earth he could count on he could still count on vodka.

"Fuck that's good vodka…"the Russian commented to himself.

Just then a young blue eyed private knelt beside him shaking violently. He wore a thick brown coat that stretched down beyond his knees. Upon his head he wore a brown Russian style winter hat, flaps down over his ears. In the center, it bore the Russian communist symbol, of the star with the hammer and sickle inside, the metal slightly white with frost.

"Comrade! Belinski! Please get up I don't know what to do!" he yelled over the screaming sound of whizzing bullets and mortar shots.

The kid held onto his Mosin Nagant rifle for dear life as he stared helplessly on to Nikolai's blank expression . "I'm not the guy you need to talk with," Nikolai said in slurred drunken speech, heavy with accent "The sergeant… Yazov will…" He turned his head seeing the scorch mark on the ground and his shoulders slouched.

"Well _fuck!"_

"Belinski you don't understand! Yazov was the highest ranking solider in this unit!" even in Nikolais' drunken state his head was already coming to a conclusion.

_Ahhhhhhh….. This is going to really blow,___he thought to himself, _a lot like his third wife. Actually if I think right her blow was actually quite good…_ He grinned stupidly.

"You're the highest ranking, comrade!", yelled the young private snapping Nikolai back to reality.

"Sir! _What do we do_?", He asked more sternly.

Nikolai shook his head as he got to his feet and stumbled for a few seconds. The whizzing by his ear reminded him where he was and he crouched. A large number of other soldiers had gathered around the sloppy drunk, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.

They varied in size, clothing, and weapons. Some had bolt-action rifles others had a sub-machine gun like himself. One of the larger men who was still a 'private' held a Russian DP-28 heavy machine gun. Most of their weapons were becoming white from frost. He stared dumb found for a moment.

_I don't know shit about tactics or any of that bullshit, _he thought to himself. _I always thought it was you see thing you don't like shoot it. Just like first wife…_

He thought for a few more seconds, and reached for his greatest source of inspiration, his flask. He tilted it upwards, chugging at a truly incredible speed. "_comr_…?" one of the soldiers was about to speak up but Nikolai held up his index finger looking at the boy past his up turned flask.

He emptied it and threw the flask backwards out of the snowy trench making a _PING! _sound being hit mid air by a bullet. The warm feel of alcohol warmed his body and let him focus.

"Bondarenko, Titov! Head for the east flank and support the mortar team! Fedorov, Oganesyan, move to the west flank and set up a machine-gun position! Kosygin put that rifle to good use and see if you can kill someone important!" The soldiers began to move and shift around each other heading to their assigned positions, relief washing over them like a tidal wave.

"Grombyo! Tend to the wounded! Sarayev! See if you can scrape up some vodka! The rest of you take up positions along the trench! We can't let the dogs break through" Nikolai shifted and put a fresh drum clip into his weapon backwards before correcting himself.

He set himself up along the trench and looked on to the crater ridden battlefield. It was an open, flat, snow covered plane. If you turned around and looked in the distance you could make out some buildings from Moscow that poked up in the distance.

Across the main battlefield there were small shacks and random debris across the snowy expanse that the Germans were using for cover. Several Panzer tanks, immobile or destroyed, scattered the battlefield as well. Some Germans taking cover behind them. The Germans were not prepared for Russia's harsh, cruel winter, or her deadly frost-bitten kiss.

They wore blankets, scavenged clothing, and other apparel, trying to stay warm. The enemy moved behind barrels, wagons, whatever they could find , but couldn't escape his drunken accuracy.

An older Russian soldier with a thick black beard and brown eyes set up on Nikolais' left with his Mosin Nagant rifle. Another soldier set up on his left firing a rifle as well. Nikolai drifted into thought as he killed those who threatened the capitol of his country.

He knew if the Germans broke there line here they would lose Moscow and if that happened, they were destined to take all of the mother land. But Belinski knew that he couldn't let that happen.

He loved his home almost as much as vodka.

"How did you suddenly take charge and give orders!?",the old soldier asked as he reloaded," You even came up with sort of a plan!" the private yelled over gunfire. "Are you actually…really smart underneath everything Belinski?!" the private asked wanting an honest answer.

"Comrade let me tell you,"

Nikolai said in between bursts of fire, "I'm not _smart_," he stated. He turned his head to the soldier next to him.

"I'm _drunk_" he simply stated.

As if on cue he gagged in front of the man and turned around vomiting drunkenly into the trench they fought in. He had put his hands on his knees and looked up slightly talking to himself. "Looks like 'nother shitty morning for Nikolai…" , he mumbled right before he passed out into a puddle of his own vomit and bullet casings.


	3. Death in darkness

_Subject:_Takeo Masaki

_Location: China, seventeen miles north of Hong Kong_

_Date: December 9__th__ 1941_

_Status: Lt. Masaki has volunteered to lead a sneak attack on "225 High Ground" a weak point in the "Gin Drinkers" British defense line of Hong Kong_

"あなたの知恵あなたについての私の同盟国にしてください..." whispered Takeo, low and brooding.

The air was humid and the moon lay overhead. Its silver beams streaked through the forest canopy like a razor and gave the dirt covered forest floor patterns and shadows that added to the sense of eeriness this ancient forest already possessed.

Takeo adjusted the light officers' cap upon his head as he crouched slowly forward. His dark green fatigues were beaded with sweat and his type 95 sub-machinegun hung loosely off of his shoulder. His boots were caked with mud and grime and the mosquitoes were eating him alive. Takeo knew this was his shining moment, the true chance to prove once again the superiority that the Masaki clan possessed. Once this line was secured the rest of Hong Kong will be engulfed in the shining wave that is the Japanese Empire.

As he swatted a bug on his neck, and thoughts of pride and honor filled his head, he began to think of his family. His younger brother who had taken part in the naval air offensive, the first attack against the Americans, only hours before. His sister a school teacher in Nagasaki, and his mother waited at their lavish home for their two heroes to return. He then thought about his deceased father. A critical man, whose' tactical genius and over all intelligence were almost as deadly as his blade.

_Father I will not fail you,_ he thought suddenly.

He snapped back into reality as he saw light up ahead. He stopped abruptly, turning his head slightly to see the other nine men following close behind. Takeo gripped the handle of his sheathed katana and knelt down on one knee. He raised his arm into a fist which caused the immediate reaction of the other nine soldiers who crouched low and hold their weapons tightly.

The other nine men varied in size, but all wore dark green combat fatigues like himself. They wore intimating masks covering their mouths, only revealing their squinting eyes. Four of the men held the type-99 submachine gun like there superior. While two of the men from the unit held the type-99 bolt action rifle.

The distinct difference between these two men's weapons however was the large, Japanese style scope one bore on one, while the other wielded a long bayonet. The remainder of the soldiers held on to the type-38 rifle, all decorated with the same intimating length of Steele that one of the sharpshooters possessed.

Takeo looked ahead and saw the faint glow of light coming from a concrete trench ahead. He moved his upraised hand forward, signaling for the '_Move in'._ As they approached, he saw the looming expanse of the hill beyond the trench. To the left, a small concrete bunker came into view, trying in vain to stay hidden with branches and other forest debris. As Masaki neared the warm yellow glow of lamp light, he began to hear the distinct sound of water falling to earth. A small steady trickle. His brown eyes followed his ears and he found its source.

A tall blonde Australian soldier had crawled out of the tent and was taking a long piss right at the tree line. Takeo shook his head and signaled for one of the soldiers to silence the annoyance. One of the soldiers did this abruptly, holding the mans mouth while slicing his throat with a short katana.

Takeo signaled for the go while one soldier rolled the limp corpse into the brush. He looked into the trench seeing nothing but a few boxes of opened ammo, the Australian soldiers' rifle and the lamp. He lowered himself slowly looking to the direction of the bunker. He held up his weapon and walked to the concrete, door shaped opening of the bunker. He signaled for two men to accompany him while the others kept watch. Takeo went in first looking down the sight of his gun. The two followed from behind, scanning the room with their compact machine guns.

The bunker was a small gloomy room with a rectangular opening looking out into dense jungle. Perched on the window was a Bren Heavy machine gun held by its bipod. A soldier, who had fallen asleep, leaned on the weapon head down. Boxes of grenades, ammo, and food rations littered the small space. A makeshift hammock made of bed sheets sits in the corner another soldier sound asleep. Takeo pointed at both of the exhausted men quickly and began to look through a folder laid on a desk next to a radio. He skimmed through and heard the distinct sound of blood hitting the floor and muffled yells but paid no mind.

He scanned its contents seeing if it was the information he needed. Flipping pages quickly, face void of emotion, and decided it may be adequate.. He turned around to see the two soldiers from before dead, blood still flowing from their necks as they stare blankly forever into nothingness. He hands the manila folder to one of his men as he walks out.

The man begins scanning its contents. English orders with distinct detail of how to set up defenses and secure "Golden Hill". Takeo walked outside, watching his men sort through ammo, English bags, crates or anything of worth. He looked up at the steep hill to his left. It was very high and easily defendable. He could make out in the darkness the shining of barbed wire and other large metal obstacles making a full upwards assault impossible.

He calculated all of the things he could from his position to make his way up the hill. His mind suddenly taking in account he had to punch a hole for the rest the invasion force. "Ochi. Koga. Sato. Clear a path through that desolate maze of steel. Higa keep watch over the engineers. The rest of you sweep the trench. No prisoners." He blankly stated as the soldiers went about there assignments.

The three combat engineers went through the pain staking process of cutting each piece of wire individually. Explosives would have been much more efficient but also very loud. Takeo set on a box in the trench waiting patiently. He unsheathed his blade and began to examine the incrusted blood it still retained. As he stared at his sword, it reminded him of the times he spent staring at his father train and spar for hours with his blade.

When Takeo was old enough he would spar with him using wooden and bamboo swords. His father would never take it easy on him during there duels and he had the scars to prove it. As efficient and relentless he was with a blade, he still held his own sons safety in high regard sometimes refusing rematches from his beaten and broken son. His wondering thoughts were cut short as he heard a voice yell high on the hill "WE GOT SQUINTYS!", the voice yelled in perfect English very heavy in an accent.

Takeo got up abruptly and sheathed his sword. The top of the hill was flashing bright yellow as bullets whizzed by the heads of the Japanese soldiers below. Takeo moved to the edge of the wall and saw all of his men engaging and returning fire.

He cocked his Type-95 and sprayed in bursts at the top of the hill. Higher up on the hill, he could make out the three engineers, taking cover, hiding behind rocks or tree stumps. He could see they hadn't cleared half of the barbed wire.

Takeos' gut wrenched. He couldn't afford to fail now! He had volunteered for this and swore it would get done. He couldn't die peacefully, knowing he had been a disgusting smudge on the wall of his families honor. He wouldn't dare taint the honor of himself, his country, his _family_.

Takeo shouted over gunfire "Move up the hill!" The rest of the unit was spread along the base of the hill, heads down in the trench. They heard the order and began clawing up the steep slope, staying low, firing now and then. Takeo pulled himself out of the trench with surprising speed. He kept his head low and hit his back against a tree trunk.

He popped in out of cover, bullets whizzing by his head until he was in cover with one of the combat engineers. Takeo was close enough now to see the top of the hill was artificially flat with rows of sandbags that surrounded it. He could see the tip of some structure poking over the wall of cover. British soldiers fired downward spraying wildly, most likely from the nights poor vision. Masaki grabbed the soldier taking cover next to him and yelled into his ear,

"Use the Bangalore! They already know we're here!". The soldier swung around his beige knapsack and pulled out the long black cylindrical device. He peeked his head out to place the device but his body went limp suddenly and pieces of his helmet flew off. The contents of his skull finding its way unto Takeos face and fatigues. He moved the limp body aside and armed the device himself, sliding it under a mass of barbed wire. _BANG! _It went off making his ears ring and he was deft for a couple of seconds. He heard similar bangs on other parts of the hill flashing brilliantly against the thick expanse of night.

Paths straight up the hill were being cut through the barbed wire. Takeo armed one more Bangalore device and moved up. He slid it underneath the last expanse of barbed wire and he waited. _BANG!_ The way was clear. The two men that had followed the way up his newly blasted path, ran up following their superior. Takeo slung his small machine-gun on his back and unsheathed his sword.

"DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR!" he shouted and charged up the hill.

The adrenaline that flowed through his veins fueled the primal want to watch his enemies die close. Maybe it was a genetic memory trait that he shared with the rest of his war loving ancestors. Whatever it was that fueled his warrior nature, it couldn't be completely sated with a bullet and a firing mechanism. He needed to see their fear, pain, anguish, and regret as he tore through ripe flesh with his blade. They say you can see into the very depths of men's souls as they die. Takeo knew this to be true.

Takeo charged up the hill and cleared the sand bag with a single leap. The poor bastard reloading behind, watched in horror, as cold steel cut through the base of his neck, down through his heart, and stuck in the middle of his chest.

The English soldiers khaki shirt had done little but absorb some blood. Takeo ripped out his sword, with one hand and kicked the limp body with his boot, allowing it to fall like a sack of potatoes. The other soldiers making up Takeos unit moved through the outpost. It had one guard tower in the center, surrounded by several buildings.

Atop of the hill he could see the glowing city lights Hong Kong. AA-Gun fire flashed randomly in the distance, trying to defend the city from the bombers that pelted the Chinese, British, and Canadian forces that occupied the city.

Two other British soldiers exited one of the buildings. They ran out wildly looking for something to shoot. With blinding speed, Takeo pulled out his Type-14 NAMBU pistol and shot both men in the head with deadly accuracy. They fell over abruptly and clumsily. Takeo holstered his pistol and sheathed his blade.

"Not as honorable" he commented "but effective."

After another fifteen minutes of cleanup, the hill had been taken. Takeo watched his team move in through the buildings looking for Intel and survivors. One of the men holding a rifle jogged over to him, his head beaded with sweat and grime. He removed the cloth around his mouth as he spoke, panting heavily.

"Report", Takeo ordered.

"Two men dead one wounded. The rest of the bunkers are being primed with explosives as we speak. We also have radio contact with Lieutenant General Sakai." The man said all at once.

"Make that _two"_ Takeo said clenching his shoulder.

"Sir you should probably…".

"We have more pressing matters sergeant," Takeo cut in.

" Help the others with the explosives. Dismissed", Takeo finished sharply.

"_Hai"_

The soldier stated as he bowed in respect of the superior officer and walked away. Takeo headed to the newly captured communications tent, still clenching his slowly bleeding wound, eager to be debriefed.


End file.
